Because our mains only see what they see, there’s plenty of stories that fall just off screen. Today I present something Found In Red Letters…

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Soulful, Winter 2009

Sly tended bar at night. It was quiet enough to read when Tweety left for the night and the crowd slowly followed. 

This particular weekend, Gus’ grandson Greg had a school break, and came to visit also. Though, unlike me, Greg tried to avoid Tweety. I made friends with the woman who was a force of nature and a charming draw to the bar.

Greg continued to fix broken items in the back spaces hardly anyone went. 

Tonight in particular, there was a party for the signing of the band to some tour. I liked the guys, the music was good, but that didn’t matter to me. It would matter to Tweety, who spent quite a lot of time with that Woods man. 

I realized early there was no shot with a woman like her when she was already taken, so we became friends. Greg actively avoided meeting his future business partner. I still tried to slowly ask that question over time. 

“The party finally ended?” Greg came out, carrying a step ladder. “There was a note about some board to hang?”

“Yes, we need something better than push pins in plaster.” I pointed to the small opening behind the bar, one of those bits of wall that couldn’t hold a shelf but was dead space between the bigger shelves.

On that spot were pictures. Not many, because it was only a few months, but enough to need a solution. There were a lot of groups with Tweety in the celebrations. Even signed ones of people before they get famous. Gus was pulled into his fair share of the memories there.

“She really makes it lively here, huh?”

Greg spoke, half to himself, half incredulous. Like he was admitting something to himself. The way he stroked the side of a particularly engaging party moment, almost like how Gus stroked his late Jeannie’s picture felt telling. I watched him remove them with care and decided to see what I could learn this time.

“Hasn’t been that long,” I nodded, and helped collect the pins and photos from the wall, “but Tweety feels like she’s an old soul who never really left here.” Holding the board as Greg set up and climbed the ladder, I snuck in a tester. “Your future partner can wear out a crowd in ways I’ve never seen.” 

“Not my partner yet.” Greg shook his head like he wanted to be rid of this while he started drilling into the wall. “I’m not exactly here to make friends. I’m here for Gus.”

I’d seen that look in Greg’s eyes before. Not confusion, or awe. Just someone trying not to feel drawn into something. That’s why I tested him every time I could.  “You know, you could just, stay on this side of the bar. Try meeting people. She’s not that scary.”

“Not the plan.” Greg climbed a step, and checked the wall. “I’m just here to fix the hinges, hang this thing, and go.”

“Sure,” I smirked. “That’s what you think.”

The drill whined for a second longer than it needed to. Maybe Greg was letting out something unsaid. Once the board was up, he didn’t step back down right away. Just stared at it. His shoulders settled.

“I think he likes having her here,” Greg said suddenly, voice low. “Gus. When he called, he sounded like he had spark again. Like it used to be when the business was good for him.”

I leaned my elbows on the bar, giving him room. “He does. She didn’t just pour drinks, she brought in people. Tweety has a way of making strangers turn into repeating guests who stay. Gus lit up again because the place lit up.”

Greg stayed perched on the ladder, staring down at the board. He’d placed the first row of pictures slowly.

“You don’t think she’s, taking too much space up?” His question came soft, but heavy. “Feels like every story I get told circles back to her.”

There it was. The thing that was bothering him. I let Greg sit in silence long enough that he looked down at me, waiting for an answer.

“Some people, don’t take space. They make it with a different kind of gravity.” I handed him some more photos and pins. “You’ll see it if you stop hiding.”

As he climbed down, his jaw worked like he had more to say but didn’t trust the words yet. Instead, Greg’s fingers hovered over the last photo before pinning it back to the board. Tweety mid-laugh, Gus behind her, looking like the two of them had been running the place on tall tales forever.

“She makes it feel alive,” he muttered, almost like he wished he hadn’t said it out loud. His jaw set, but his shoulders dropped a little, like some weight had shifted inside him.

“Tweety’s done more for us than anyone knows,” Greg added softer now, like the words weren’t meant for me at all. Then he climbed down, handed me the drill, and disappeared back toward the storeroom with the ladder before I could say a thing. 

I knew some of what Tweety had been doing to help Gus and his relationship with Greg, but that kind of coming to terms? That was the Tweety effect, changing your life, making you question things. I wouldn’t be surprised if Greg started to apply himself in school now that there was a business to come back to manage someday.